There is a fucking bullet lodged in my… fucking chest, and I still… can’t find the arsehole that put it there. All I can do right now is stare upwards at the sky. It’s grey, like the sand. Surprise surprise. Everything here is fucking grey. The sea. The sky. The sand. Fucking grey. The sand should feel cold. At least, I know it should… feel cold. All I can feel is the dagger of lead… stuck between two of my fucking ribs. Bullets scream over my head. I should feel the blood… seeping through my jacket, but I’m not sure I can move my hand enough to let it run through my fingers. My legs definitely won’t fucking work. There’s no point even trying, actually.
Well this is new. I can feel the sea on my neck. It’s fucking cold. At least I can feel that. I wish I could take my helmet off. Then I’d be able to feel it properly. I’m not sure it’s fucking worth it though. I’ll just keep looking up. No point edging my eyes downward. All I’ll see is the pool of blood… dripping… from the hole in my side. Definitely not worth it. My rifle is just out of reach. No point getting that either. Someone will come soon. Right?
I wonder how Marian will react. Not well, I’d imagine. Fuck, what am I kidding, she’d be distraught. Will probably hit me before she kisses me. “You stupid, stupid arse” she’ll say, like she always does, fighting back the tears and she slams her knuckles into my leg. Of course, it’s not me she has to blame. It’s that fucking Kraut, up in the pillbox, hiding away like a fucking hermit crab.
Wait. I think can hear someone. A Medic? Fuck knows. Everything sounds the same when all you can hear is fucking bullets and bombs and screams and fucking… death. Maybe I should call out. I don’t think I can though. I think my throat stopped… working about the same time as my fucking dead-weight legs. He’ll see me. Of course he will. He’s seen the others.
He’s fucking taunting me, from his little… fucking post-box… with his big fucking rifle. I know it. I’d gut him, if I… could. Get my bayonet… and shove it right where he put… that fucking bullet in me. For the Country. No, fuck the Army, fuck the King, fuck the Country, they’re no fucking use now. For Marian. Yeah, I’d gut the Kraut bastard fucker for Marian… and little Paul down the street and… the old Greengrocer that lives next door to Mum. I’d fucking gut every last… one of the bastards to see home again. I’ll get up. Maybe this time my legs will work.
Marian? Marian? I can’t… get up. Are you there? Marian? I think… they’re coming to… help me now. But I can’t fucking see. Marian? Ma-
Just a quick piece of flash-fiction.